


Four thousand six hundred twenty-two

by Eliza



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Welcome to the Madness (Yuri!!! on Ice), Yuri is 15¾ and his vocabulary shows it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-10-02 17:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20358385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliza/pseuds/Eliza
Summary: Even three days of friendship makes a difference.





	Four thousand six hundred twenty-two

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where to start thanking [Rana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranalore) for this one. Aside from the usual fantastic beta, she held my hand while I tried to find a voice for this version of Yuri, reminding me that as writers "we don't get in the way of the character."

"Is this how these things usually go?"

Yuri snorted a laugh at Otabek's genuine bewilderment, then grinned as he met Otabek's amused gaze. "The only other Grand Prix banquet I've been to was last year's. But based on that one, yes." 

He'd been to other post-competition banquets as well, but there was something different about the Grand Prix. Maybe it was the smaller group of competitors, all of them familiar with each other. Maybe it was the need to let off some steam mid-season. Whatever it was, last year's and this one had moved far past a "Teen" rating before the night was over. A trend Yuri hoped to continue outside the banquet room.

For the moment, though, Otabek was giving him a look which Yuri couldn’t interpret, so he sent a questioning one back. "You went to one of these _last_ year?" Otabek asked. 

Yuri kind of liked the edge of protectiveness Otabek seemed to have for him, as long as it stayed just an edge. "My innocence is lost." He gave a dramatic sigh, then said, surprised, "I thought you saw the pictures?"

"Victor got distracted by the marriage announcement, which is also likely why I forgot." Otabek paused and frowned as he caught sight of what was happening on the dance floor. "That can’t be comfortable."

"If Chris is down to his underwear, it’s time for everyone with good taste to leave." It also meant the abandonment of any pretense of adult supervision. Yuri got up, but Otabek didn’t move. "You coming?"

Otabek looked up at Yuri, wide-eyed. "I think I might have had some innocence left," he said, then smirked as he rose to his feet. "It’s all gone now."

"That’s good," Yuri said, turning toward the exit. "I would hate to think I was about to take advantage."

Yuri had just tossed the comment over his shoulder as he led the way out of the room, halfway between a tease and an assumption, but when Otabek didn't respond in any way, he wondered if he had read the signals wrong. No, the friendship invitation had been honest, but he was sure there was lust there as well. The problem was they had only known each other three days, and Otabek seemed to be more…deliberate in his decisions than Yuri's usual post-competition stress relief. He'd waited over five years just to talk to Yuri after all.

"I was kidding," Yuri said, hoping he hadn't fucked up the one thing he wanted to take from this event as much as the gold medal. He had only started to be able to decipher Otabek's expressions, but that one was disappointment. "Unless you don’t want me to be kidding?"

"Where are we going?"

God damn that poker face, he needed something back. "That depends on if I’m kidding or not."

Otabek looked down, shaking his head, as he pressed the call button for the elevator. Yuri could see the end of a rueful twist to his lips which didn’t help answer any of Yuri’s questions. However, what he saw when Otabek raised his head again, absolutely did. 

"Your room or my room?" Otabek asked.

"My room," Yuri said, suddenly a little breathless. That was the look that he’d seen in the fuzzy photos of the exhibition skate. Seeing it up close was…. Fuck, this elevator was slow. Yuri pushed the button again.

Yuri stepped close as soon as the doors closed, but Otabek sent a deliberate glance to the upper corner of the elevator car. Yuri growled. Damn cameras. He’d have to settle for eyefucking instead. Otabek did one better, making a show of deliberately slipping his tie out of its knot, slowly sliding it out from under his collar while he wrapped it around his hand and, as the elevator door opened, tucking it into his suit jacket pocket. He smirked as he stepped out first, giving Yuri a moment to get his body to do anything other than send blood to his cock.

By the time Yuri joined him in the hall, he’d also opened the top two buttons, the white cloth accenting a very lickable portion of skin. Yuri had never understood what was so great about suits, but he was starting to see the appeal of dress shirts. Yeah, getting Otabek out of that was going to be fun. 

Yuri guided them toward his room, Otabek keeping pace at his shoulder, and every time Yuri glanced over, Otabek was watching him. By the time Yuri opened the door, he could feel that look like a touch and was well over the joys of anticipation bullshit. He gestured an invitation as he walked into the room, but giving them both time to think on the way here might not have been the best strategy. Otabek hesitated in the open doorway and said, "This is probably a bad idea."

Fortunately, Yuri had seen this coming.

"It’s a horrible idea," he said, tossing his jacket on the desk before sauntering back toward the entry. "I’m underage, by less than three months, but if anyone makes an issue of it, I’ll gut them with my toe-picks. We’re rivals, which I think makes it hotter. We live 4000 kilometres apart, I looked it up." Otabek gave a flicker of a smile at that so Yuri kept going. "Our schedules are stupid; my coach is a mothering pain in the ass; you are _hideous_ to look at, and yet I still want to kiss you." Oh my God, there was a full-on, actual grin.

"You’re a smooth talker, Plisetsky," Otabek said, as he pushed the door shut with his heel.

Yuri give Otabek the finger, then slid that finger between the buttons of Otabek's shirt and tugged him into the room. He was so focused on his second win of the weekend that he tripped over the shoes he had automatically toed off, completing his required embarrassment elements for the evening. Otabek caught him, pulling their chests together hard. Then held on. 

"Four thousand six hundred twenty-two," Otabek said into Yuri’s hair.

"Only if you’re driving. Like a dumb-ass," Yuri said into the collar of Otabek’s shirt. 

He slid his hands around Otabek’s waist, under his jacket, then up his back. Holy fuck, why had he been hiding this under all that leather? Yuri could feel the muscles move under his hands as Otabek shifted, trying to settle them more comfortably against each other. Yuri usually focused on getting his mouth on skin as soon as possible, but this was…really nice. Still, he was at just the right height to put his tongue in that tempting hollow at the base of Otabek's throat. Yuri got a hint of salt, the slight bitterness of cologne and a preview of what the rest of Otabek would taste like that went straight to his dick. But even as he slipped another button free, he decided he had one thing he wanted to do first. He pushed the jacket off of Otabek's shoulders as he straightened his spine, pressed his lips to Otabek's ear, then whispered the sentence he'd been waiting all evening to say. 

"You were hard when I came to give you my gloves."

Otabek froze for a moment, his jacket hanging from his hands. Yuri pulled back far enough to see Otabek’s tightly closed eyes, but even as he moved, Otabek opened them, meeting Yuri's gaze. He tossed the jacket onto the chair behind him, then used his now free hands to grab Yuri’s ass and pull Yuri tight against his crotch. "I’ve been hard since the moment you first started to move to that music. Last night."

Yuri stifled a groan. That was a fucking colossal boner; no wonder he'd noticed even in the middle of a routine. It was taking all his effort not to just grind his own hard-on against it like some horny teenager. Which was what they both were, but that wasn't the point. "Last night, huh? How many times have you jerked off since then?"

"Three." 

Fuck, Yuri loved that Otabek didn't flinch. Everybody always flinched when pretty Yuri Plisetsky was obnoxious and crude. "You are known to be diligent about practice." 

Otabek responded with a hint of a smile, then ran his hand along the outside of Yuri's hip, his thumb curling over the wing of Yuri's pelvis. It was an invitation, and Yuri was overjoyed to accept. His imagination had finally caught up with his mouth, providing him with vivid suggestions about the results of that practice. Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face because Otabek's smile got a little wider. 

"Have you changed your mind about kissing me?" Otabek asked, leaning in just enough to make his point. 

There was no way Yuri would do that, but he would admit to being thoroughly distracted by the thought of Otabek's hands and the reality of Otabek's hard cock. That might be a first. Also new was the feeling that he'd like Otabek to kiss _him_. "I can't decide where I want to start."

Otabek focused on Yuri's mouth. "Can I make a suggestion?" he asked as he continued to close the distance between them. Slowly.

Yuri tamped down the urge to just grab Otabek and get things going already. Instead, he murmured, "Be my guest."

Slow, gentle, and testing—it was exactly what anyone would expect from a good first kiss. It wasn't what Yuri was used to and he was surprised by how much he liked it—it was really, really nice—but he hadn't earned the reputation he had by simply meeting expectations. As soon as Otabek pulled back, Yuri surged up, licking his way between Otabek's lips as he slid his hands around Otabek's neck, over the short-cropped hair at the back of his skull. Otabek let him in, welcoming his tongue and insisting on tasting Yuri as well. He had his hands under Yuri's shoulder blades again, adding the warmth of the hug to the heat of the kiss. Then they skimmed down Yuri's back and firmed on his hips as Otabek sank low enough for Yuri to have to tilt his head down to continue meeting Otabek's mouth. The change in angle was interesting, but Yuri was ready to pull away to chew Otabek out for the insinuation about his height when Otabek gripped Yuri's thighs, just under his ass, and lifted.

Yuri did pull out of the kiss, but with a gasp, not sure whether to be impressed or pissed off. While deciding, he helped the effort by wrapping his legs around Otabek's waist. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

Otabek grinned while he spread his fingers wide over Yuri's ass. "Taking advantage while I can. Won't be able to do this for much longer." 

How did Otabek always seem to know exactly the right thing to say? Yuri would have been irate if anyone else had pulled such a condescending move. Yuri tipped Otabek's head back to reach his lips again. If he was going to be carried, then he was also going to take advantage of having both hands free, not to mention the shift of perspective. Otabek breathed a chuckle but sank eagerly into the kiss. He seemed to like having to lift his chin while Yuri's thumbs stroked his jaw and, _fuck_, he was so good at this. He wasn't fighting Yuri's lead but he sure as hell wasn't passive, moving against Yuri with the same sureness that he had on the ice.

Otabek wasn't moving his hands, though; no squeezing, no groping, not even extra pressure with his fingertips. It was distracting. Otabek's hands anywhere seemed to be fucking distracting but spread over Yuri's ass—_spreading_ his ass—there was no way Yuri could be expected to give his attention to everything, so it was a surprise when he hit the bed. He had known Otabek was moving, and this was the logical destination, but the sudden loss of Otabek's touch felt— 

Yuri shook himself out of that thought. Getting tossed onto the bed was exactly what he wanted. Otabek knelt on the mattress between Yuri's thighs, obviously checking that everything was okay, and Yuri suddenly had no patience with coddling or with clothing, "Take your shirt off."

"Me?" Otabek tossed the allegation back at Yuri with a jerk of his chin. "You still have your tie."

Shit, he did. Before he could rip it off, Otabek brushed his hands away and teased at the knot. Yuri lifted his chin, more than willing to help, and found himself looking Otabek in the eye. His breath caught.

Intense was a word often used to describe Otabek Altin, but Yuri didn't think the commentators had a fucking clue how that just scratched the surface. There was so much in his eyes. Yuri guessed that's why he kept his face so stoic, an attempt at maintaining some privacy in a very public life. Right now, he was letting go of some of that control, letting Yuri see the want, at least, as he efficiently got rid of the tie, then set his fingers on the buttons. Yuri had to make the effort to breathe as he simply lay there and let Otabek undress him. Watched Otabek as Otabek undressed him. He was going to have to buy more dress shirts.

Otabek opened the button at the collar and then the next; he ran his fingers over Yuri's throat before reaching for the third. He stroked over Yuri's collarbone while thumbing open the fourth, and, Jesus fucking _Christ_, this was taking too long. Yuri grabbed Otabek's shirt and pulled him down onto his elbows, then Yuri started to work on those buttons as he curled up. His lips met a grin which quickly softened, opened, and scorched Yuri with a kiss which had him forgetting about all the damn buttons.

Yuri ran his hands up Otabek's chest, over his shoulders, down his arms; no wonder Otabek could lift him. He spread his fingers wide over Otabek's back, enjoying more of the play of muscles under his hands as Otabek moved over him. What would that feel like if Otabek was fucking into him? Yuri broke the kiss, panting hard at the thought. That wasn't something he'd ever considered doing with anyone, but now that the idea was there, it didn't seem ready to leave any time soon. 

He pulled up the shirt to get at Otabek's skin and Otabek finally seemed to catch some of Yuri's impatience. He rose onto his knees and made quick work of his buttons while Yuri sat up and pulled his own shirt over his head They were kissing before they reached the mattress again, mouths wide, full of teeth and tongue, just the way Yuri liked it. He was doing everything he could to get closer, taste more, feel more, but Otabek had only tentatively settled his weight, his chest barely brushing Yuri's skin. Yuri wrapped his arms around Otabek's back and tried pulling him closer. He wanted that weight. He wanted everything. 

"Come on. Let me feel you," Yuri said, pulling himself up against Otabek's chest. "I want you…on me." 

Instead of pressing Yuri back down against the bed, Otabek shifted his weight onto his right elbow and then onto his side, slow enough for Yuri to move with him. Yuri reluctantly went along with it, but only until he could figure out how to get Otabek back on top of him. Only until Otabek used his free hand to cup Yuri's ass, providing the groping Yuri had expected when he was being carried. Yes! That was more like it. He moaned as that hand continued up the length of his spine, deliberately learning every vertebra while subtly arching him so that he was pressed fully against Otabek's chest. He really needed to stop second-guessing and get it into his head that Otabek had fan-fucking-tastic ideas. He took Otabek's lead and arched his neck, too, an invitation which Otabek took with enthusiasm. He held Yuri still with his hand spread wide between Yuri's shoulder blades, as he covered all the skin he could reach in hot, sucking kisses.

"Fuck, Yuri," Otabek breathed with a growl between kisses.

That word from Otabek's mouth had Yuri gasping again, a wave of heat surging into his cock and then settling to throb in his ass. He wrapped his leg around Otabek's thigh. "God, yes. That's an excellent idea." 

Otabek paused and Yuri froze. Had he screwed this up? Yuri usually didn't give a shit if the guys he'd fooled around with thought he was a slut, but Otabek had been different from the first moment he'd seen him in the hotel lobby. 

"Not today," Otabek said, setting his teeth on Yuri's neck as if he was placing a promise there.

Not today meant that there would be another day. Washed in the relief of knowing that he was going to see Otabek again, was going to be able to feel this again, Yuri could wait for another day. He tilted his head to get at Otabek's mouth again. Was he ever going to get enough of this? 

He didn't usually grab another guy's ass—it seemed likely to promote incorrect assumptions—but since the topic was already decided, there would be no confusion here. God, everything about Otabek was fucking perfect. After a thorough fondle, Yuri raked his fingernails over the firm, round muscles while purring into the kiss. Otabek caught Yuri's lip between his teeth for a soft nip then pulled back to let Yuri see his smile before he shifted his mouth back to Yuri's throat and continued kissing further down. He kept his hand on Yuri's back as if he intended to hold Yuri still, but it was moving too much to be very effective. 

"I can't stop touching you," he said against Yuri's skin.

Yuri understood that problem. He'd moved back to skin himself, leaving Otabek's ass to tease under Otabek's waistband at the small of his back. He shifted his other hand from under his head to thread his fingers in Otabek's hair, fisting the strands as Otabek ran his tongue over a nipple.

"I want to taste every bit of you."

Yuri huffed a laugh. "If you were anyone else, I'd have told you to shut up by now."

"Now you've made me self-conscious," Otabek said, looking up, a grin fighting against his overblown pout. 

Yuri slid his hand around to open Otabek's pants, but instead felt up Otabek's monster cock through the dark fabric. "How about I make you come instead?"

Otabek closed his eyes. "Yes," he sighed. It seemed to take a full body effort for him to take the next breath as Yuri squeezed. "Yes! No. Wait."

The fuck? He had to be kidding, but, no, taking off their pants was an excellent idea. Yuri stripped his off and then his underwear as he watched the emergence of an uninterrupted stretch of gorgeous skin.

"You can leave them on," Otabek said.

Yuri frowned and then saw that he still had his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs. "Hell, no," he said, skimming out of them. "I just got distracted." He reached for that distraction, but took the scenic route—up Otabek's thigh, skimming his ass, another sweep over the sexy curves of his back, then brushing over his ribs before Yuri wrapped his fingers around Otabek's cock. Fuck, it felt good. What had seemed huge in Otabek's pants fit just right in Yuri's hand, heavy and hot, already slick at the tip. What also felt right was Otabek sliding his fingers over Yuri's cock. Except for one thing….

"Just a second. I've got…." Yuri rolled onto his back and reached under the pillow just above him. The bottle was right where he left it. Otabek raised an eyebrow at him as he popped the cap open. "You think you're the only one diligent about practice?"

"I think I'm intimidated," Otabek said, obviously trying not to laugh. He held out his right hand, and Yuri poured enough for them both into Otabek's palm, then capped and tossed the bottle back toward the pillows. He slicked up his right hand by sliding it against Otabek's and couldn't help thinking of their handshake a few days earlier. He curled his fingers in a loose approximation of the grip and looked up to meet Otabek's gaze. Otabek seemed to be thinking the same thing, letting Yuri see another of those moments of earnest honesty like he had in Park Güell. He nodded, then shifted away from the serious moment with a smirk. "Gonna show me what you've got, Plisetsky?" 

Yuri slid his hand onto Otabek's cock this time, satisfied by the moan it prompted, even if the sound still held a tinge of laughter. "You first, Altin," he said, responding to the filthier side of the double entendre. 

Otabek took the challenge, kissing Yuri as he pulled their hips closer together, getting Yuri's cock within easier reach of his right hand. It was trapped between them, giving him few options for fancy maneuvers, but the heat of his hand and the strength of his grip felt really good. Yuri hummed his approval into the kiss, even as he could feel Otabek easing away.

"Move for me, Yuri." Otabek said softly against Yuri's lips. It was closer to a plea than instructions, so Yuri began rocking into Otabek's grip in counterpoint to the motion of his own hand. Otabek took a deep breath and sighed, "Fuck. Yeah. Just like that." 

That voice was going to feature in Yuri's wank sessions for the next year.

If Otabek's mouth was within reach, Yuri kissed it, but Otabek was just as likely to pull back and whisper into the space between them: "I love your hands on me," "Fucking amazing," "Yuri…how are you real?" Yuri was getting lost in the rhythm of their hands, of Otabek's voice, of Otabek's fingers massaging the back of his neck, lightly tangled in the hair at the nape. "Next time, we're taking your hair down completely. I want to bury my hands in it, " Otabek said, gently tightening his hold.

Just the briefest thought of Otabek's fingers in his hair and cock in his mouth, and, _fuck_, he was coming. He felt the heat of Otabek's breath against his skin, the brush of tongue on his lips, but he couldn't do anything about it. Everything centred on his dick, the need to push even if it was only into the curve of Otabek's hand. The space between pulses like those breathless moments between take off and landing, when his body contained the universe and it was completely out of his control. As he came back to himself, he realised Otabek had wrapped his hand around Yuri's on his cock, keeping the movement going. Yuri opened his eyes to look straight into Otabek's pupils, blown wide, and squeezed on the next stroke.

Otabek took a deep breath, then he dived into Yuri's mouth, no technique except the desperation to get closer as he came into Yuri's hand. Yuri let himself be whatever Otabek needed, taking the kiss while massaging Otabek's shaft with his finger and palming the head as support for Otabek's shallow thrusts. Through all of this, he had one thought: he wanted to do this again. At this point, he was usually figuring out how to get rid of the guy and make sure he stayed gone, but right now, all he wanted to do was hang on to Otabek and not let go. He had to find a way to see him again, not some vague promises of a future meeting, but with places and dates and times. 

"Four thousand six hundred and twenty-two?" Yuri asked once Otabek had curled over, still panting, to rest his head on Yuri's collarbone. Otabek nodded against Yuri’s chest. "Fuck."


End file.
